tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265392302014-10-09T21:14:34.589-05:00dazed and confusedRandomness...of course, that's how I roll.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-71571138356236483082008-07-06T01:12:00.002-05:002008-07-06T01:23:11.240-05:00stinkin' ticketI finally met a cop that wasn't a softie to a guy on a motorbike. I was giddy-upping down the road on my way to Uncle Ron's to meet up with an old friend as I exited Hwy 34 onto Cornhusker Hwy. Every time I take that off-ramp on my bike I try to take it a bit faster, lean the bike over a bit more. Seems that I took this ramp the fastest yet. I straighten out from the turn, turn on my turn-signal to move over a couple of lanes to get pass some traffic, and then coast my way to the light. Just as the light is about to turn green a cop comes up behind me with his lights on...no siren, just lights. Thinking that he is wanting past me on his way to a call, I quick pull ahead of the car next to me and get over. So does the cop. CRAP. He is looking for ME. So I pull over in the next parking lot, which just happens to be about 30 yards down the road from Uncle Ron's. <br /><br />Cop: So, do you know what the speed limit is around here?<br />Me: fifty something?<br />Cop: Nope, 40MPH.<br />Me: Really? How fast was I going? (I thoughtI was doing 50).<br />Cop: You were doing 58 MPH. (for those math challenged, that is 18 over the speed limit. Correct me if I am wrong, but that is something like 10 points on a license)<br />Me: Really? I didn't think I could take that off-ramp so fast? Huh? Oops. Sorry about that.<br /><br />Up shot is, he let me off kinda easy on that ticket. The total price is only $169, and he gave me a brochure about "Stop Class." I think I am going to take the class. It is only $80 (half the price of the ticket, but eight hours of my life completely wasted), and when I am done, the ticket (and points) are gone from my record. Yay me. I always find a way to make my life more expensive :Dsoulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-49249988163467857062008-06-23T21:29:00.003-05:002008-06-23T23:14:11.164-05:00not for the faint of heart or the queasy of stomachsThe footage you are about to see is for mature audiences. If you have a sensitive stomach or are easily disturbed you should change the channel.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> Okay, I warned you.<br /><br />Some back story is required...but to lead off...I HATE Mondays. And they hate me. If we all jump into the "Way-Back" machine, we can find out why this story even takes place. Just about 17 years ago exactly I went out on a motorcycle ride with my dad and ended up spending six months on crutches due to me not being able to ride on the back. What ended up happening was that my left foot got sucked into the brand new rear tire and got stuck between the tire and the frame of the bike. Two skin grafts later, and one MAJOR miracle I was walking and running like normal. Fast forward 17 years and today starts. I show up at work and find out that the plane that I thought I had fixed on Friday, still leaked. As I was getting ready to start draining the fuel out so that I could open up its gas tank for the third time, I started to pull my tool box to the plane. Note my choice of words, "Pull." I found out the hard way why you are supposed to "Push" not "Pull" tool boxes. As I was pulling my box I didn't quite walk fast enough. There goes my heel under the box...and BRING ON THE PAIN TRAIN. The tool box ended up shaving off the scar from my heel. That, in and of itself is painful. I have experienced that before because my soccer cleats have worn off my scar. What pushes this experience over the top is that my tool box destroyed my heel as a blunt instrument. My heel is about three different shades of purple, and I might have broken a bone spur off. As I walk it feels like there something rolling around under my Achilles tendon. If my heel feels this bad by the end of work tomorrow I will be going to the doctor and having an X-ray to see the total damage. And here is the moment that you have all been waiting for. Picture proof of the damage. Enjoy the show. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/SGBxgtAmQ8I/AAAAAAAAABk/VTBrERcsX2c/s1600-h/DSCF1238.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/SGBxgtAmQ8I/AAAAAAAAABk/VTBrERcsX2c/s320/DSCF1238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215293175146890178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/SGBxgxVECAI/AAAAAAAAABs/eY-A5NefJP4/s1600-h/DSCF1239.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/SGBxgxVECAI/AAAAAAAAABs/eY-A5NefJP4/s320/DSCF1239.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215293176306468866" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/SGBxhJg_X-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/IzRG3inQbEQ/s1600-h/DSCF1241.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/SGBxhJg_X-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/IzRG3inQbEQ/s320/DSCF1241.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215293182798946274" border="0" /></a>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-16548367881098101582008-06-14T19:41:00.002-05:002008-06-14T19:55:30.211-05:00bad boy?...or multi-tasking?<span style="color:#990000;"> So I drove up to Norfolk for the weekend for a couple of reasons. One, the weather was beautiful and it just begged for a road trip. Two, I needed to do some work on my bike that required it to be off the ground and my dad has a motorcycle jack. Three, it IS Father's Day this Sunday. And Fourthly but not lastly, my good friend Trisha Kment is changing her last name to "Cole." Which brings me to the title of my post. They (Trisha and Joshua Cole) asked me to be the sound-man during the reception. Duties entailed are making sure that there is music during the eating time, that the MC has a mic, and that the slide show is turned on at the correct time. </span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;">So here I am, sitting in the sound booth bored out of my gourd. Trying to get 300 odd people through a buffet line takes a bloody long time. Ergo, nothing to do. Till just now, when I finally (15 seconds ago) had to get the slide show going. If you don't get the title of the post, comment and I will explain it all out ;)</span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;">P.S. I got half of the work done on the bike. Realized that I REALLY didn't want to do one of the jobs myself, so I am going to take it in to the shop for that one.</span>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-40972199575900502182008-05-19T15:06:00.003-05:002008-05-19T15:08:49.589-05:00KamikazeNote to self, "Beware the Kamikazes at Cliff's Bar." They be potent. Also, most of the ones that I sampled were not that good tasting; but if you want to get drunk in a hurry, they are your best bet.<br /><br />And to all you who are curious...I did NOT get drunk...or even tipsy. ;Psoulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-45200530971148112162008-05-02T00:04:00.002-05:002008-05-02T00:21:32.114-05:00recordI found out that when my name is pulled in the police database, it comes up with 30+ red flags for outstanding warrants and other miscellaneous charges. How did I find this out? I got pulled over on my bike on Wednesday.<br /><br /> I was minding my own business going the wrong way on a one way street and a cop had the gall to pull me over :P Actually I was a retard because I forgot that the street I was cruising down went from two directions to a one way. I was loving life because I was catching all the green lights, my bike had a new rear fairing so it looks almost as good as new, and the temperature was north of 60 degrees. Suddenly, after going through a green light, I realize that all traffic is pointing my way. I go "Self, I am stupid. This is not the street I thought it was. No problem, I will just turn into this parking lot and get myself going the proper direction on this boulevard." Immediately on finishing this little internal dialoge, the car that was coming my way, that prompted said discussion, turned on his lights. Yes, he was a cop.<br /> <br /> As I am laughing to myself at my absolute stupidity, and shaking my head, I turn into the parking lot, get off the bike, remove my helmet, get my proof of insurance and my registration from under my seat, and am waiting for the officer before he has even pulled into the parking lot. As he approaches me he says, "I think we both know WHY I pulled you over." Yep. Because I am a dum-bass. As he takes my info he tells me that I am only going to get a warning (great guy that cop) but he needs to run me anyway. No problem. That last liquor store job finally left my record (j/k). Ten minutes later, he finally gets out of his car...was something the matter? Or did he only have 14.4Kb connection in there? <br /><br />Him: Have you had any problems going through airports lately?<br />Me: Noooo, not really<br />Him: When was the last time you flew?<br />Me: A couple of weeks ago. Flew to Phoenix to pick up a car. Why?<br />Him: Well, when I ran your name, 30 red flags popped up. I had to weed through them to make sure I had the right person...You don't happen to go by "Tony" do you?<br />Me: Nope.<br />Him: I didn't think so. Have a good day.<br /><br />So ends my latest encounter with our lovely men in blue. That was actually the first time I had gotten pulled over on my bike. Of course, I am a little paranoid about the next time I fly. If TSA decides to scan my boarding pass as I go through security, am I going to get detained, rejected from my flight, cavity searched, etc. because of my name matching so many other "criminals?" Hope not. If I do, at least I will get a good story out of the deal.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-57862414645786002912008-04-23T09:25:00.002-05:002008-04-23T09:28:59.898-05:00tiredI am about to tell a funny on myself. Have you ever not had enough sleep for a while and then had to get up a bit earlier than usual? Usually, things don't go quite right and you just have to shake your head and laugh. That is me right now. Not NEAR enough sleep has been had for the last several weeks and then I had to get up at 5 this morning to get a plane out the door by 8 AM. I get up, get dressed, have breakfast and head out the door. Get to work, change into my uniform, and start the work day. It is now 9:30 AM. So I have been up and "dressed" for over 4 hours. I just realized that my boxers are on backwards. Feel free to giggle or guffaw.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-89561568392864033692008-02-06T16:46:00.001-06:002008-02-15T20:32:42.537-06:00concertIf anybody in my area (Lincoln NE) wants a good, fun, rockin' time this Friday...read on. If you want to be a square, a poser, and boring homebody with no friends...leave this page right now. :) Alright, all bombast aside, I am here to present a fun event for one and all. A man whom I feel I can call a friend (versus an acquaintance) is going to be in town on Friday the 8th to grace us with a concert. Some of you might have heard of his band. Caedmon's Call. Andrew Osenga happens to be one great electric guitar player and an amazing lyricist in his own right, but he also plays as the electric guitarist for Caedmon's Call. They are going to be playing at Berean Church on the 8th at 7:30 PM. General admission tickets only, and they go for about $15. If you can't float that or have other plans already for that time block, here is the main reason for this post.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R6o-BvA56UI/AAAAAAAAABM/Nwx9gBasYDw/s1600-h/IMG_3171.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164008122254747970" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R6o-BvA56UI/AAAAAAAAABM/Nwx9gBasYDw/s320/IMG_3171.JPG" border="0" /></a>Andy Osenga is also going to be putting on a concert, of his own material, at Grace Chapel, in the Geneva House. The church is on the corner of 40th and Sheridan. If you show up at 10:00 PM you will for sure make it on time. 10:30 PM means that you are probably going to walk in while he is playing. Granted, all these times are based on conjecture about when CC's concert finishes. As soon as the concert is over, several folks will be heading over to GC to set up for Andy. Depending on when they get there, how quickly they get set up, and when Andy himself can make it over, determines when doors open. As you can see, very laid back, very informal, and the cost is going to be $5 suggested donation. If you are on the fence about going and would like to hear some music from either of these artists mentioned (especially Andy O) check out <a href="http://www.caedmonscall.com/">http://www.caedmonscall.com/</a> and <a href="http://andrewosenga.com/">http://ilikeandy.com/</a>. If you do make it over, I would love to say hi. Especially if I don't know you. I will probably be the one with a slightly harried look due to me getting the sound up and running :)soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-67904282233084146452008-01-29T18:21:00.000-06:002008-01-29T18:25:57.383-06:00ahhhh how I love the moody......fickle mood-swings of Mother Nature. She is one PMSing lady right now. Very nice weather on Saturday, better weather on Sunday, and then drop dead gorgeous weather yesterday. Today? It turned into the winter from hell. The difference in high temps between the last two days is 40 degrees. Add the windchill into the mix and you have a swing of almost 70. Cold day, snowy at the beginning, and incredibly windy. Basically it was a frozen version of Pooh's Blustery Day...minus the flooding and T-I-double guh-er. Hope this finds everyone snug and warm and hopefully in warmer climes than here.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-68737028946819639942008-01-27T18:01:00.000-06:002008-01-27T18:53:04.772-06:00rideToday was the first day in SEVERAL months that I was able to indulge in a favorite past-time of mine. The weather cooperated by being sunny and in the low 50's. The activity? Going out for a ride on my motorcycle. Oh Happy Day it was. It took a bit of work to be able to start. Had to reinstall my battery (an ordeal in and of itself), find my helmet (over at the sister's house), and then get the motor to turn over. Let me give you some advice. If you leave a bike alone for four months or so, especially over the winter, put in a bottle of HEET before you leave it. My gas was so cold that it was almost freezing, as well as the octane had dropped a bit. Both of those items alone are not much, but together meant that my started had to REALLY work to get the motor going. It finally did, and I was off down the road to get the helmet. I take a right turn out of the driveway and hit the gas and came "this close" to losing it right then and there. My back tire was soaking wet from all the melting ice in the driveway, and I hit the gas at quite possibly the worst spot I could find. The road had a small ice-patch, and loose sand and salt all around it. Needless to say, the back end kicked out, the bike tried to lay on its side, and only the very lucky quick kick that I gave the ground enabled me to stay upright. I was now off down the road of freedom.<br /><br />I was only out for about 45 minutes, but what a sweet journey it was. Nothing too strenuous, some city cruising with a half-hour jaunt on some of the small paved roads outside of Lincoln. It was so nice to feel the wind rushing by, to have to hunch my chin a bit to block off the wind coming over my jacket, to enjoy the comradrie of other bikers that I passed. Man do I wish that it would be sooner than another three or four months before I could go out again. As a parting thought, I give you all (especially other riders) this salutation.<br /><br /><strong>Live to ride, ride to live; and either ride hard or don't ride at all</strong>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-32531474238825351392008-01-14T22:10:00.001-06:002008-01-14T22:10:49.144-06:00Drink to Friendship and love...for all the rest is tin.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-66257621290288115182008-01-13T22:25:00.000-06:002008-01-13T22:36:55.263-06:00ArrangedYou know how Indie films are always thought provoking? Quite often amazing? Usually they have quirky camera angles, stilted dialoge, and messages that go light years beyond the banality of the regular celluloid trash that we call blockbuster (or must-see) movies. "Arranged" is one such film. A good friend, Jonathan Gregory, invited me over for dinner tonight. After dinner was over, we (me, Jonathan, Jay, Liz, Josh) watched this movie that won several awards at various film festivals this last year. It is about two single women in New York, one is a Jew and the other is a Syrian Muslim. They teach at the same school and both of them are having marriages arranged for them. This movie shows their "unlikely" friendship as they realize that their differences are far outweighed by the similarities in their lives. As a movie, I would call it a must see. The performances of the two main actresses are amazing. Their joy, anguish, and frustration come through so strong that you almost feel as if you know them. If you call yourself a movie aficionado, a movie lover, or a movie noobie, I recommend that you rent this from your nearest blockbuster and watch it before the week is out. With no further ado, here is the trailer.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wPnYPtbjUVo&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wPnYPtbjUVo&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-1191353643683481512008-01-12T15:56:00.000-06:002008-01-12T16:56:17.215-06:00Jamie<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lFQTeJx7I/AAAAAAAAABE/KWavQIRDh4E/s1600-h/IMG_3310.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154727394909210546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lFQTeJx7I/AAAAAAAAABE/KWavQIRDh4E/s320/IMG_3310.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><div>Had a fun breath of fresh air blow through town the other day; Thursday to be exact. The very fun and beautiful Jamie Tyser graced us with her presence as <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lEwjeJx6I/AAAAAAAAAA8/rOXEO2NdvuA/s1600-h/IMG_3310.JPG"></a>she gave a recital/concert at First Plymouth. Her musical selection was varied and filled with passages that were completely unknown to me. That was fun because most everything was new and intriguing. Most of the pieces were filled with a dissonance that is missing in most music you hear, and done in a minor key. Very melancholy (to me at least). A couple of her songs just begged to have some artistic license added in by the performer...one song would have been the work of two notes to go in to "The Pink Panther" by Henri Mancini. I forget what the other song could have been. Oh well. And now to get the impression that you were in fact there. Here is the visual aspect. Sorry, no audio or video today ;) And no, there was no organ in the concert...I just thought it was cool. In case you can't tell, she plays the trumpet...and she plays it well.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lDGTeJx4I/AAAAAAAAAAs/uIpecSF6Wew/s1600-h/IMG_3332.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154725024087263106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lDGTeJx4I/AAAAAAAAAAs/uIpecSF6Wew/s320/IMG_3332.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lDFTeJx1I/AAAAAAAAAAU/dLjOy6o_NC0/s1600-h/IMG_3303.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154725006907393874" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lDFTeJx1I/AAAAAAAAAAU/dLjOy6o_NC0/s320/IMG_3303.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lDETeJx0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/sxZww-e742k/s1600-h/IMG_3300.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154724989727524674" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lDETeJx0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/sxZww-e742k/s320/IMG_3300.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lEwDeJx5I/AAAAAAAAAA0/O3SOC_mQasA/s1600-h/IMG_3319.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154726840858429330" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lEwDeJx5I/AAAAAAAAAA0/O3SOC_mQasA/s320/IMG_3319.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lEwDeJx5I/AAAAAAAAAA0/O3SOC_mQasA/s1600-h/IMG_3319.JPG"></a></div></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__VQrqkrT7U8/R4lEwDeJx5I/AAAAAAAAAA0/O3SOC_mQasA/s1600-h/IMG_3319.JPG"></a></div></div></div>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-46663324996682161692008-01-06T11:30:00.000-06:002008-01-06T16:19:35.997-06:00boredHere I sit...half bored out of my skull, and yet not caring too much. Why you ask? B/c I am getting paid $18.75 to babysit two mechanics as they work on their helicopter. I don't have to be here to do any work, but because of insurance purposes; so here I sit. I have caught up on almost all of my internet duties, listened to two CDs, read one magazine, and I still have over four hours of time that I have to kill before I am allowed to leave. The weather is being kind of nice, so I might be able to get some good pictures of the airport and any planes that might be parked outside. Christmas was good; incredibly busy but good. New Years wasn't so much a bang but a whimper...same as every New Years I have been a part of since as long as I can remember. Actually, there was one year that the year ended with a bang. I got a concussion and almost went to the hospital that night. This was way back in the wogie days of Mexico. My family was celebrating New Years with the Corleys and us kids were outside lighting off bottlerockets in the street. Once we ran out of explosives, we started running around like hooligans, twirling, dancing...whatnot. Me and Katie were spinning really fast in a circle inside the Corley's coche (...covered driveway) when our hands slipped and I went headfirst into the concrete wall. I thought I was alright, but I was knocked out, nauseous, loopy, and all the rest. Needless to say, I did NOT see midnight but was asleep/passed out/unconscious in somebody's bed. Yeah, that would have to be the "Craziest" New Years I have been a part of. Any stories along those lines?<br /><br />P.S. If anyone is curious, I STILL have not been paid from Dallas. }-)<br /><br />.: EDIT:.<br /><br />I actually got to help out with the chopper guys take out and relube the 8 bolts holding the 4 rotor blades in. That was some work. I am now very sore in the upper back.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-73228212893801716102007-07-26T17:56:00.000-05:002008-01-27T18:54:48.987-06:00I LOVE technologySo, I finally get internet in my apartment. Hence the last post. With every fiber in my being, I purpose in my heart to post something blog-worthy of a month and a half absence, when what to my dismay occurs? Oh right, technology bites me in the butt. I finally have an evening when I have nothing to do and so I turn on the old trusty computer. Up it starts to load, and load, and load, and load...ad naseum. Oops, I guess my system is letting me know that it wants a break. I shut it down and restart to see if I can't figure out what the issue is. I change a couple of settings in CMOS and BAM!!! I get absolutely nothing when I try to restart. So I go to bed. I can't get back to my computer for a couple of days but when I do I reset everything to default and up she comes. Slowly, or so VERY slowly, but she is alive...and my network card is shot. I get nothing. It's great, I have a computer that works like a charm, I have cable internet streaming in all of its broadband glory, and I can't get online. Oh well, that is what roommates are for. The ability to steal his computer and use it for your own gain. :)<br /><br />On a much lighter note, today felt very productive. Not the first eleven hours. Oh no, definitely not those, but once I got home, everything finally fell into place. I got the numerical keypad for my garage programmed so now I can get in even if I forget the remote upstairs. I also resurrected my sister's car. Three days to late to be of any use to her, and about three weeks to late for my own sanity; but she is up. Turns out that the ignition module in the distributor was shot (a common enough problem in that model year of Civic). The starter which I installed at the beginning of her vehicle problem saga is cranking like a champ, and the "wacked out" issue with her intake valves is normal because it is a V-TEC motor. Oh the joys of mechanicing on a automobiles. Give me a plane engine any day. They are much simpler and more logically put together. :)<br /><br />For anybody who has not heard about my sister's car b/c you do not live in a 10 mile radius of my abode, I apologize that my last paragraph makes absolutely no sense whatsoever and is so filled with mumbo-jumbo.<br /><br />In the words of the great Jim Carrey, "Good day, good evening, and good night." I have to clean the apartment and take a shower before people start showing up for Cary Grant night. For the intrigued among you, the movie that will be showing at the Taylor Theatre is "Grass is Greener." Feel free to imdb.com it to find out the synopsis.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-32468268179999972482007-07-21T02:00:00.000-05:002007-07-21T02:02:29.365-05:00oops I did it againYarrrg!!! the prodigal son is still alive. (best said in a pirate accent) Now that I have internet, expect posts to happen more than once every other month. :) I am going to bed.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-8518645529800657872007-05-07T23:21:00.000-05:002007-05-07T23:24:51.230-05:00this bitesSo I go in to donate plasma today. Get my $15 and head out to my car. Only to find that my car is no longer in its spot. It seems that since I was straddling the line between two parking spots (one owned by the place I donate at, the other by an apartment building) my vehicle got towed. That part is bad, what is worse is that the tow company used has been changed in the last couple of months. Before, the charge to get the car back was $66...now it is $100. To put this another way, I just paid $85 to donate plasma. Ugh.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-57335389913258630682007-05-06T23:10:00.000-05:002007-05-06T23:41:52.928-05:00movie night<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> to anybody interested. </span><br /><br /><br />I am starting a movie tradition for the summer period. All who know me, or know someone who knows me, are invited. Every Thursday starting the seventh of June and ending the second of August, there will be a movie shown at my place. Every movie will be have Cary Grant as the thread that holds this tradition together. The rough draft of movies to start off this little caper are "North by Northwest" "Operation Petticoat" "Father Goose" "Charade" "Arsnic and old Lace" "To Catch a Thief."<br /><br />As you can see, this will put us halfway through the summer. Any other suggestions to finish it off would be appreciated.<br /><br />Last note...popcorn and soda provided by me. Other snacky snacks are to be brought by anybody who feels like it. :)<br /><br />.:edit:.<br /><br />I forgot to post the time. The movies will start around 8 PM. That way they end at a decent hour for all those that need to work in the morning.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-21821631232326533452007-05-02T17:45:00.000-05:002007-05-02T17:52:01.945-05:00roommateI just found out that I have a roommate. He is a quiet, introverted, unassuming sort of fellow. In fact, when anybody drops by the house, you could "toss" it and never see him....he doesn't like company. He moved in some time ago, and yet I myself only realized last night that he was even there.<br /><br />There is a snake somewhere in my basement. I call him Bartholemew Gustace Perelli, Barty for short. I have no idea what kind he is, but he left a dry snakeskin hanging down the wall yesterday, which is how I found out that he was living with me. Sweet dreams to all you who are scared to death of snakes. :)soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-53374666306001384672007-04-30T23:36:00.000-05:002007-04-30T23:46:25.934-05:00I love itThis weather is AWESOME. Mid eighties, sunny, light breeze. Makes having a bike the most awesome experience on the planet. Went out on a ride on Sunday with a group of guys. We just took off west to Seward, got there, had a coke and an ice-cream bar at one of the gas stations and then drove back. Took about an hour and change. The camaraderie of the road, everybody waving at other bikers, swapping places in the train without having to "talk" it over. <br /><br />There were five of us on this trek. Me with my Honda CB 750, my bro Jay with his Honda Magna Super 650, Elijah with his Honda VTX 1300, Matt with his Honda Shadow 600, and then Parks with his Suzuki 400 (pseudo crochrocket). It was glorious, the perfect cap for a good weekend that involved two separate instances of grilling out, and four hours of beach volleyball. Good times.<br /><br />P.S. I apologize for the complete lack of "true" sentences. Everything was either a run-on or a fragment. All my english teachers would be appalled. :Dsoulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-33275883527038940082007-04-01T18:20:00.000-05:002007-04-01T21:19:01.737-05:00The EndWarning...this last part is LONG. <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">As traffic backed up behind him, Ben did his best to get his wagon out of the intersection and into the way station that was just down the road. After much prayer, supplication, blood sacrifices, and then the most potent of entreaties (the omnipotent swear words) it was back under way. With much lurching, stuttering, and near deaths, he made it to his "new" destination. A "pop" of the hood showed no glaring problems. Checking the fluids showed everything fine. There was no sign that anything was wrong, and yet, like an aneurism in the brain, Ben's current mode of transportation was dead. He had been given a number to contact in case of breakdown should it ever, God Forbid, occur. After many wasted conversations, he finally got a hold of someone that might be able to help. The good news was that they could not find where he was. The helpful person on the other end searched for his current location. Nowhere to be found.<br /> "Where are you?"<br />"The intersection of Hwy 59 and Hwy 169, just south of Garnett <st1:state><st1:place>Kansas</st1:place></st1:State>."<br />"I'm not seeing that that intersection. Did you say you were in <st1:state><st1:place>Colorado</st1:place></st1:State>?"<br /><br />Ben was thinking "WTF?"<br /><br />"NO, <st1:state><st1:place>Kansas</st1:place></st1:State>. I am broken down in the middle of <st1:state><st1:place>KANSAS</st1:place></st1:State>."<br />"You sure you're not in <st1:state><st1:place>Nebraska</st1:place></st1:State>?"<br />"Listen lady. I am in <st1:state><st1:place>Kansas</st1:place></st1:State>. The south end of Garnett. In <st1:state><st1:place>Kansas</st1:place></st1:State>. At the junction of Hwy 59 and Hwy 169"<br />"Oh, I thought you said..."<br />"Whatever, just get me a mechanic. Tell him I am at the Conoco gas station at the corner of Hwy 59 and 169"<br />"Okay sir. We will give you a call in 45 minutes to tell you when to expect some help."<br /><br />Click.<br /><br />"What the heck? 45 minutes? It's <st1:time minute="30" hour="15">3:30</st1:time> in the afternoon. How the crap am I supposed to get this P.O.S. fixed and on the road if I am supposed to be informed of "When" to expect help at <st1:time minute="15" hour="16">4:15</st1:time>?"<br /><br />To add insult to injury, the rain that had been misting all day long was turning to sleet. After an interminable HOUR, Ben called back to the oh-so-helpful moron he had been talking to before.<br /><br />"Hi, my name is Ben, here is my "service" number. I was wondering when a tow-truck was showing up to help me."<br />"We aren't showing anything by that number."<br />"WHAT?"<br />"No sir. Could I have your name and phone number?"<br />"Here you go."<br />"Hmmm...let's see...nope. Nothing under that. You say you are broken down in a U-Haul?"<br />"Yes."<br />"Did you call our 800 number?"<br />"Yes, and they kicked me over to you."<br />"Okay, what vehicle are you using?"<br />"This one."<br />"Ooohh, got it. Yessir, your mechanic should show up in an hour and a half."<br />"Excuse me? An hour and a half? I am one mile out of Garnett, how is that going to take so long?"<br />"Well sir, you did call at the end of the business day."<br />"No, I called mid-day."<br />"Well, he will get to you." CLICK.<br /><br />Ben calls back two minutes later.<br /><br />"Where exactly is this mechanic coming from?"<br />"Lebo"<br />"Huh?"<br />"Lebo <st1:state><st1:place>Kansas</st1:place></st1:State>."<br />"Ookaayyy."<br /><br />An hour later the mechanic shows up, driving his tow-truck. Ben and he converse a bit, look at the engine, watch and listen to how it runs, and both concur that it is probably a plugged fuel filter. Seems that U-Haul does not maintain worth beans...as is evidenced by the black-as-soot air filter. Once hooked up, Ben is back on the road, riding shot-gun to "knight in shining armour" (if you will). "Hey, could you drop me off at a good hotel in Lebo?"<br />"Ah, no."<br />"Why not?"<br />"There isn't one"<br />"Isn't one what?"<br />"Nice hotel. The only one in town is pretty bad."<br />"Is there one in the area?"<br />"Yeah, in BETO. It's about 12 miles down the road from Lebo."<br /><br />After a couple of phone calls to other mechanics, it is worked out that Ben will stay at said hostel in Beto Junction, and will borrow a vehicle from a mechanic there to drive out to Lebo to pick up his wagon after he gets a phone call telling him it is fixed. <br /><br />Beto turns out to be nothing. It is not a town. Not a village. Not even a cluster of huts. It's sole reason for existence is to provide a rest point for people such as Ben. Three restaurants, one garage, two gas stations, and said hostel. It's name doesn't really exist either, since Beto is the first letter from each of the four towns in the surround area. The hostel was at least clean, and Ben was able to be sated from hunger at one of the restaurants. Since he was getting everything reimbursed by U-haul, he was extravagant with payment for food. Normally a good tipper, he went above board and tipped the price of the meal. He knew that in the end, he would have worked out to paying for the meal and not leaving a tip. The next morning was the same thing. After eating, he called the mechanic and found out that: yes, it was a clogged fuel filter, and no he would not need to borrow the arranged truck. The wagon was being brought out to him. Finally...things were turning around.<br /><br />The rain that had turned to sleet the previous day had deteriorated even further and had dropped an inch of snow at Ben's location. This made his next stage of driving rather slow. Actually, it was beyond slow at first. Creeping down the road at a third of his previous speed, Ben was cursing the heavens that a 3 hour trip was going to take him all day. Luckily, the road cleared out more and more so that after just a short stint he was able to pick up his pace to equal that of the day before. All went well for many hours. Boring hours. There is no radio coverage in that part of the <st1:country-region><st1:place>US</st1:place></st1:country-region>. None. Finally, he entered <st1:state><st1:place>Iowa</st1:place></st1:State>...and the roads got terrible. Seems that that area had received almost a foot of snow and after 14 hours of non-stop work, the roads were only just becoming passable. So, once again, it was a crawl. <br /><br />"Welcome to <st1:state><st1:place>Nebraska</st1:place></st1:State>: Home of Arbor Day"<br /><br />No other sign was as beautiful as that. Ben was almost home. He could "taste" it. And then he almost died.<br /><br />The road conditions at this time were marginal at best. One lane fully cleared, the other mostly so. Every once in a while you would encounter a drifting of snow that had escaped plowing. As Ben powered past a slow moving line of cars and tractor trailers, he noticed that up in the distance, his lane was no longer clear...but in fact completely drifted over. He sped up. So did the trailer rig. He sped up more, so did the rig. The jackass driver in the rig that was now racing Ben had been going 45 mph before. He and Ben were now neck and neck entering Turn 8 getting ready for the race down the long home stretch to the checkered flag at Turn 9, that was the snow drift, and nearing 80 mph. Ben realized finally, that passing in time, was not going to happen. <br /><br />Time<br /><br />Slowed<br /><br />Down.<br /><br />All Ben's previous winter training started running through his mind. Scenarios played out in the IMAX of his brain. Everything pointed to one thing. Only one plan would result in Ben NOT being strewn all over the surrounding countryside. His path was shown to him. He was riding a razor's edge of control. Even the slightest deviation would result in his friends and family getting the dreaded message, "Your son/brother/friend was in a serious accident." His one hope was to coast through the snow, trying to stay straight, while making the turn. An oxymoron? Perhaps, but he had to do the best he could, even if he was an ox...and a moron.<br /><br />Foot off the gas, hands at 10 and 2 for maximum control, seat belt snugged as tight as it would go, center of lane, wheels straight...and impact.<br /><br /><br />As the saying goes, a plan is what you have until you meet the enemy. The snow was NOT as he expected. One side of the rather long stretch of snow was firmly packed down, the other side...well; let's say it was a skier’s dream, the most beautiful powder on the planet. No-sir, you are NOT going to stay in a straight line if you keep the wheels straight. <br /><br />Everyone has seen the movies were a small, light souped up car kicks out the back tires going around a corner. Always there is a lot of room for that to happen. Ben got to see how that looked/felt when you are driving a 27 foot, under loaded boat, and you have only 9 feet to play with before you contact the rather immovable vehicle right next to you. <br /><br />Stay off the gas, don't even THINK about touching that brake, steer into the slide, don't over steer, watch your exit point, and straighten out the wheels just before you get back to asphalt. Time stops. An eternity between hear-beats. Whole solar systems are born and die in the time and space it takes for the front tires to transition for snow to dry ground. All plans, hopes, and dreams hinge on the next split instant.<br /><br />Is...he...straight? If so, there is a happily ever after. If not...well, nobody likes to think about that possibility too much. <br /><br />THUMP...BA-THUMP...BADDA-THUMP...Squeak. With one little chirp of tortured rubber, one little tail-wiggle, one last shake, Ben is once again on the gas, going down the road, passing the trucker, and giving him the middle finger the whole while. He is alive. Heart hammering to beat the band, blood pressure through the roof, adrenaline pouring through his veins by the gallon, Ben vows to not pass another vehicle until he gets home.<br /><br />By the time he makes <st1:city><st1:place>Lincoln</st1:place></st1:City>, his heart has finally slowed, his hands no longer shake, the cold-sweat has dried from his brow, and then...he is home. No words can express his gratitude or his thankfulness.<br /><br />After a couple of days to unpack and run some other moving errands, it is time to drop off the wagon. It is "now" that he finds out the true nature of "re-imbursement." <br /><br />"Here are my receipts from the breakdown."<br />"Okay, let's see here. Hotel…good. What are these two?"<br />"My meals."<br />"Meals?"<br />"Yes, I had to buy supper and breakfast because of breaking down."<br />"We don't reimburse meals."<br />"Why not?"<br />"Because you would have eaten anyway."<br />"I wouldn't have eaten out. The only reason why I ate out was because I wasn't able to make it home that night. Because I broke down. If I hadn't broken down, I would have eaten a nice home-cooked meal for dinner, and then had cereal or eggs and bacon, cooked on my own stove I might add, for breakfast."<br />"We still won't give you your money."<br />"Why not?"<br />"Because you would have eaten anyway."<br />"WHAT? Did you not just hear me? Forget it, just give me my freakin' bill, and my storage room."<br /><br />Ben no longer cared. He was home, he was safe, and he still had some coinage in his pocket. Life was good...if only he had a girlfriend.<span style=""> </span>But “That” is a different story.</p>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-18889897494627337552007-02-28T21:50:00.000-06:002007-02-28T22:11:46.909-06:00Part 2<span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"> Upon reaching his home, Ben immediately continued his packing spree. Into the washer and dryer went three loads of laundry. The dishwasher was immediately put to use as well. Boxes were opened, and his few minor possessions went into their allotted places. As the night went on and hour turned into hour, he realized that he had WAY more than he thought, and that there weren't enough allotted locations for his stuff...so he went to bed. By this time though, the bed had been broken down and packed up, so he had to pass a not quite comfortable night sleeping on the carpet in the living room, wrapped up in a sleeping bag like a giant chimichanga. After a few short hours of respite, he was back at it. This time with even more fervor as some of his friends were coming over to help him load his wagon with the packed essence of his life in Dallas. The appointed hour of their help arrived, and he was mostly packed. After welcoming everyone, they all settled down with a will and soon the wagon was loaded. Looking at the finished packing process, Ben realized that he could have saved much money by going for the next size down of wagon; but that was too late, that money was water under the bridge, and time and tide wait for no man so he set off on his way. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">The first leg of his journey was a nice short stint of boredom as we wandered up to Tulsa. Many memories of that town ran through his mind as the miles passed beneath him. He was looking forward to fellowship, friendship, and food shared among those he called his family. His plan was to spend a couple of nights catching up on the lives of those dear to him. Upon arriving, he set up many meetings and plans, and then partook of a wonderful repast of lasagna and caesar salad. By the time he left that oasis of friendship, he had almost forgotten why his path led farther north to the inhospitable wastes of the artic, and his heart was heavy at the thought that it might be many months if not years till he was able to cross through again.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">As if it was a mirror reflecting his heart and soul, the weather was cold, dreary, and rainy. The only thing that made the trip bearable was the knowledge that he would be sleeping with family that night.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">But Fate had another plan for him.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">The miserly owner of the hostlery from whence the wagon was procured had saved much money by not properly maintaining his fleet. When Ben had reached the halfway point of his journey the wagon started to lurch, to stutter, and then to die. What made this even worse was the location where it finally came to rest. It was a barren place. No friendly abodes for miles, and the exact location it stopped was in the middle of a junction of two major traffic arteries. If Ben was not able to get the wagon out of the way soon, he would be run over...or through. </span>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-14024279380947732032007-02-25T18:28:00.000-06:002007-02-25T18:51:32.229-06:00The story: Part 1<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"> So I guess I lied when I said this story was going to be told the next day. "The dasterdly moving company and the brave mover" by Ben Taylor</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">It was a cloudy and blustery day on the day that our protagonist (Ben) sallied forth on his quest to move all earthly belongings from the dungeon that had held his soul for the last eight months. He knew that this quest would be long, without glory, with much discomfort, and full of travails, and so he girded his loins as for battle and stepped out the door to start this long journey. It was a fitting start that he stepped in a rain puddle on that first step. After shaking out his boot, he mounted his noble steed. It was a companion of many a rough uncomfortable mile these last six months, so he knew just what was needed to coax it to a mood that was conducive to riding. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">Ben only had a short time available to acquire his main mode of conveyence for his trip, as well as to assemble the last few supplies needed before he could set out. His taskmaster allotted him a short period over the noon hour, that Ben was allowed to do what he wanted to. So Ben turned his face to the south and commenced on his way. First stop was Stuffmart. Ben had no way to lash his steed to the wagon, once he picked up the wagon, so many ropes and tiedowns were needed in the very near future. Precious minutes were lost wandering the many torturous, twisty, and misleading aisles before the sought after items were found. Many more were lost as other retched souls tried to pay, barter, and steal for their items at the lone paystation open. Finally, he was once again on the road.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">This time he looked rather like Don Quixote tilting at windmills, as Ben had forgotten his bag to carry things at work. He made do with stuffing his many purchases down his jacket and hoping that the pressure caused would keep them from spilling onto the road-way as he rode. His directions for where to pick up his wagon were vague at best, misleading at worst, but after much luck and no small amount of skill at reading sign, Ben was able to find the hostler for wagons. There was a faded sign hanging over its door. On it was a picture of some sort of wagon with the word "U-Haul" emblazoned across it. The first stage of his saga was complete.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">Ben knew that the master here would drive a hard bargain for purchasing cost, but he had faith that in the end he would not have to part with more money than was absolutely necessary. After many tense minutes of terse communication with first the hired underlings and then finally the master (nay dame) herself, a price was agreed upon. It was steep, and involved many sacrifices of not only the first but also the second born of his yet unborn children. His wagon pulled around front and checked for gross mechanical negligence, Ben rode his steed into the wagon and lashed it down securely so it would not come to harm as the wagon was navigated back to work and from there back to the cottage Ben called home. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">The remainder of the day passed without incident, even though Ben did not make it back in the alotted time. At the end of the work day, he loaded up the tools of his trade into the wagon, lashed them down as well, and set his face to the east with a song of gladness in his heart. He knew that soon his face would see many good friends, and his heart would be filled with joy and mirth as stories were exchanged.</span>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-89889751901690107192007-02-19T00:02:00.001-06:002007-02-19T00:04:55.521-06:00Hi...byeI am finally moved. Note I did not say moved in. I am about halfway to claiming my space as my own, with knowledge of where everything is. Work starts on today at 8. I am going to bed and tomorrow I will tell everyone the riveting tale of "The dasterdly moving company and the brave mover." :)soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-89918580580196596422007-01-25T18:09:00.000-06:002007-01-25T18:23:45.082-06:00Yep, the wind changed<span style="color:#3333ff;"> I probably should have updated this sooner, what with my last post being what it was...so here we go. </span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"> I accepted the job in Lincoln. Gave my boss my three week notice, and then didn't hear a peep out of him until yesterday. I am suprised at how well he took it. We were having a "meeting" after work, i.e. "We have lots of work to do, not enough work going out, we are almost out of money again, I am going to hire three or four more mechanics." Right after that last comment, he looked at me and said that he needed to find another one since I was leaving.</span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">And that was it. Nothing more than a "I need to replace you." I was kinda worried he would do something rash...but he understood why, so that is that.</span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">My last day of work at T.G.I.Fridays in Mesquite is Sunday the 3d of February, working from 11 AM till 4 PM. Last day at my "real" job is the 9th. I hope to have everything packed up by then so that on the 10th I can load up a U-Haul and hit the road for home. Trip home will have a detour of a day or two in Tulsa, and then get home by the 12th. Take a drug test on the 13th, and hopefully start work on the 19th. If the drug test doesn't come in on time, I will just start work once it does come in. That week home before work starts will be rather full with me getting moved in, set up, and buying a vehicle that has four wheels, intact windows, an engine that runs, and a heater. It will be a sad day when I garage my bike. She has carried me through many miles since we met, and I will be abandoning her for several months. </span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"> Oh yeah, about the miles on my bike. I bought her in May with 17,000 on the odometer. She is now reading 37,000+. Not too bad. 20,000 in a little over eight months.</span>soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26539230.post-62443421412828222522007-01-16T17:45:00.000-06:002007-01-16T19:07:47.611-06:00I think the wind is changing<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> Remember how Mary Poppins said that she would be around until the wind changed? How their lives would all change and be transformed in many great and strange ways? I think the wind might be changing down here in Dallas.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> As mentioned before, I had a couple of interviews over Christmas Break. The bigger/better (?) of the two just called today and said that they would like to hire me. I am supposed to call them tomorrow (the 17th), sometime around noon, and give them my decision. There is only one problem. I don't know what I should do. If you want to comment and give your two cents worth, go ahead...but I won't be able to read them by the time I call. Here are the facts of the case.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">1) The pay is $12.50 an hour<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">2) They pay me $250 a month to pay for medical insurance<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">3) The work is pretty much the same thing I am doing right now.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">4) There are already a couple of places lined up for me to move into if I take the job<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">5) It is close to friends, family, and community<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">6) When I was interviewed here in Dallas, I told my boss I was thinking of working for him for at least a year<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">7) I have worked for him for only 7 months<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">8) I am behind about one month in pay...so does that absolve me from that spoken "agreement?"<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">9) If I move back home, that leaves the other three guys in the shop in a serious bind for THEIR paychecks<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">10) ...</span><br /><br /><br />Five for moving, four against...and yet there is my stinkin "word" in there as well as the "well-being" of my fellow man. So far, every job has been left b/c I was either going off to college or had graduated college and was moving on in life. This is the first time I have had to possibly give two weeks notice because of just wanting a different job, and the first time that the effect of my leaving could be that the company goes under. Yeesh. If I do leave, I am in a MUCH better place financially. But I don't want this move to be about the money. Is my time down here in Dallas done? Or does God still want me down here to grow me in patience, perseverence, and what not? If I leave now, have I persevered and trusted in Him enough? Or am I bailing before I should?<br /><br />Oh well, I guess I will decide one way or another. Pray that I make the right one.<br /><br />P.S. I cut the tip of my finger today. It bloody HURTS to type.soulreavershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13515402329861029938noreply@blogger.com4